


One Stage of Grief

by Fooeyburr



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Character Study, Chess Metaphors, Internal Dialogue (of sorts), M/M, Post-Betrayal, Symbolism, the title has 'grief' in it so yes it's angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 06:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13969392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fooeyburr/pseuds/Fooeyburr
Summary: What is darkness but the absence of light?Ridden with insomnia and a longing for familiarity, Ford seeks help from within his own mind.





	One Stage of Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here's a little one-shot for a change! I apologize it's been almost two months since I last published something - I was supposed to finish this a month ago, but a new job, rediscovering my modest drawing skills and a minor case of a writer's block kept pushing it until next week, and then the next one. This fic was one beast of a struggle for me, but it's out now so all is well, I hope!
> 
> So... I always thought canon was lacking something in terms of Ford's transition from naive loyalty to devoting himself to vengeance. Here's my look into it through the idea that loss, of one's innocence in this case, is always followed by grief.

* * *

 

 

”Sign here, please.”

Ford squinted. The whiteness of the glossy paper he clumsily scribbled his name on made his eyes ache. He could hardly recognize his handwriting as his own.

“And state your business.”

"I seek closure”, said Ford with the best of sobriety he could pose. “I wish to put my past behind me and ground the determination I need to succeed in what I must do.”

The aged creature facing him leant its elbows on the table and gave him an incredulous look. “Don’t insult me with your fancy words, kid. How long has it been since you last had a decent amount of sleep?”

Ford averted his bloodshot eyes. “…I’ve lost count since long. A hundred days, perhaps. However –”

“Eyup, clearly.”

“– that isn’t the reason why I’m here.”

“All right. Listen here, Mister… Dinos? Dines?” the official peered at Ford’s shaky signature with a frown. “You’re a human. We don’t get many of your kind around here, but the few who made it this far didn’t exactly convince me of your species’ competence. Short-lived, hedonistic, driven by all kinds of physical needs… And don’t even get me started on your flair for sharp practices.” It watched the barely noticeable sway in Ford’s stance with a slant smile. “Which begs me to ask, how’d you find out about this place?”

“Would it forward my case…” Ford hesitated, but only for a second, “to say that I have a referee?”

“Depends. Let’s have a name.”

“I learned of this place in Dimension 52.”

The official raised its brow. “Jheselbraum’s boy, huh? Well, that’s surprising. You could’ve just said this is for your training. Although… Usually she lets us know in advance when one of her students is coming our way.”

Ford remained quiet. They’d received no word from the oracle, because there was no such word to begin with. To say he had a referee had been a blatant lie; in fact, Jheselbraum had strictly warned him not to head this way. She had deemed him not strong enough.

Tell a man he isn’t fit for a challenge, and he’ll try twice as hard to prove his worth… It was strange how the oracle, in all her wisdom, could be so oblivious to the driving forces of human curiosity and pride.

“I suppose we’ll have to wait for her confirmation.”

Ford threw his hands against the table in an act of desperate impatience. “Please, let me in”, he pleaded. “There is a protective metal plate inside my head. Let it be proof of my association with the oracle.”

The creature gave him a suspicious look. “A metal plate, you say?”

“It prevents external interference, as per Jheselbraum’s conduct of spiritual growth. However… It cannot protect me from what’s within.” His arms were shaking with weariness; even his own body weight as he leaned against the table was too much to bear. “Please”, he stammered to the mildly confused official. “I feel like I am trapped under the guise of absolute safety. I cannot even access my own mind. And even so, there’s someone I need to talk to.”

“You’d be talking to yourself”, the official pointed out. “All the Illuminator can do is manifest your own hopes and wishes. You know how this works, right? You go in, it contracts your brain or whatever organ you humans use for cognition, and that’s all it’s got to work with. It has no persona of its own.”

“No, there’s something else. My mind was not always this secure”, Ford muttered, uncertainty stretching his lips when he had no reason to smile. “I was under a vile influence in the past, and I cannot tell if it’s… still in my head. This is the only way to make sure.”

The creature watching him turned its head in a skeptical manner. “Sounds pretty shady to me, but I’ve never gotten a hang of Jheselbraum’s business in the first place, so what do I know… Fine. Think you can handle the payment?”

Ford blinked; even that small motion seemed to hurt his eyelids. “Payment…?”

“Payment up front”, the official said strictly. “Either big momma’s got you covered, or you cover this yourself. We haven’t received a payment from her, so pay up or –“

“It’ll come”, Ford said hastily. “The payment will be here soon, I assure you. In the meantime, would you be willing to accept a pledge? I will give you my traveling gear. I won’t be able to leave without it, so… It’s a guaranteed payment. In the worst case scenario – which I promise it will not come to – you can use me as workforce in the mills.”

“We don’t need any more slaves here, son”, the official grumbled. “Do you have any idea how many people come here every day trying to sell their souls to the Illuminator? We have enough dedicated workers to run our system forever. They’re good folks, for the most part, and they earn and deserve their happiness. This is no place for crooks. Are you a crook, Mr. Dines?”

“I am on the path of illumination under the oracle’s guidance”, Ford said curtly, almost astonished to hear the clearness of his own words. Lies were coming easier to him by the day.

The creature sighed in resignation. “All right, let him in. You’ve got three days, Dines.”

“I understand.” Ford was perfectly content with that; days in this dimension were long.

The official seemed less happy. “Three days”, he drilled. “Jheselbraum had better catch up with us by then, you hear?”

“She will.” She wouldn’t. She had no idea Ford had made his way here.

“Now go.”

“Thank you.” Ford removed his gear and placed them on the table, not sparing a thought for whether he’d ever see them again. Getting out was not important. All he needed was to get in… and get rest.

Before heading down the staircase that opened up before him, he gave a last glance at the official. “You will guarantee absolute privacy, will you not?” he asked.

The wrinkly creature swished its hand. “Look, we don’t care what you all wish for. We don’t do anything with that information… We’re not that kind of people, you know. Just go. Pretend you’re in your own head or something. It’s not that far off.”

It was quite far off from the reason Ford had come here for.

He descended the stairs without further questions, clenching his fists in preparation, or anticipation, of what was waiting for him.

The Illuminator’s abode was a large tank filled with pitch black liquid, something lighter and thinner than water but just as pervasive. It looked as though it would absorb through his skin instantly as he stepped into it. Ford shivered and tried to ignore the foul sensation as he waded into the eerie matt blackness.

His premonition had been right; within seconds, he lost sense of where his flesh ended and the substance – or, perhaps, creature – sinking right into him began. The dissolving feeling was cut off where his body was still above the surface. He gulped, squeezed his eyes shut and walked on until there was nothing but darkness around him.

As soon as he was fully submerged, his body became unbearably heavy. Holding his breath, he waited, unmoving. Then… light.

“Hey there, smart guy! How nice of _me_ to drop by, am I right? Haha, sure I am!”

He drew in a quick breath at the familiar voice and, for half a second, expected the liquid to fill his airways as well. Instead, he found himself breathing clean, brisk air into his lungs.

He’d made it.

“I need to sleep”, he muttered weakly, leaning into the weightlessness surrounding him. If he opened his eyes now, his mind would refuse to rest until he’d had all the answers he was looking for. “Please… watch over my dreams. Don’t let him in.”

He wasn’t talking to Bill. Not yet. But the voice that answered was none other than that of the demon.

Why…

“Leave it to me, Fordsy! You old pal Bill’s got you covered, watched and insured!”

And at that, Ford finally felt his shoulders relax. He fell forward in the weightless darkness that was steadily encapsulating him, and a hundred days’ weariness painted a feeble smile on his lips before knocking him unconscious.

 

 

* * *

 

 

One dark night, in a drunken fit of rage and despair, Ford had thrown one of his once treasured glass prisms against the wall. It hadn’t responded when he’d tried to speak to it, unheeding the words of pitiful disbelief murmured to its mystical shimmer.

He had glued it back together in the morning after, but its light hadn’t quite been the same.

Right until the moment he'd been lost in the interdimensional portal, Ford had refused to rid himself of the memorabilia that reminded him of his former muse.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A well-earned rest must’ve been the pinnacle of human bliss, he thought as he lay already half-awake in an ethereally light state that reminded him of the nights he’d spent in his mindscape. Perhaps the official had been right… It wasn’t that far off from being in his own head.

The Illuminator had not invaded his mind, of course. The metal plate would’ve prevented that. This wasn’t interference… This was absorption. Instead of trying to influence him by force, the creature had invited Ford’s mind to reveal its secrets by its own accord.

Ford had allowed it in earnest. Why wouldn’t he? The Illuminator was known for its benevolence, the complete absence of a willingness to exploit and benefit from others despite its unmatched abilities to grant any and all wishes of its contractor. And yet… Jheselbraum had told him cautionary tales of brave warriors succumbing to the Illuminator’s loving care, losing their will to fight for the rest of their days.

Ford would prove himself stronger than them.

His body could’ve remained in its languid, well-rested state for the rest of his stay, but something was gently prodding at his awareness, urging him to rise. A distant humming sound.

“Welcome to your comfort zone, Brainiac!”

At the sudden cheerful voice echoing around him, he opened his eyes without hurry and took in his surroundings. Not so far off, indeed… The seemingly endless space that greeted him was very similar to, if not a carbon copy of his mindscape from the time he’d shared it with a certain bringer of knowledge. Despite the drastic change it had gone through after the worst had happened, this past version of the visual manifestation of his mind arose a feeling of familiarity rather than bitter nostalgia.

It didn’t take his eyes long to seek out the figure of Bill Cipher amidst the vast indigo.

Bill was floating slightly above and a small distance apart from him, facing the other way. Ford gazed at him in silence for a long while without moving a muscle. It had been so long since the last time he’d been able to so much as come across a triangular shape without being overwhelmed by the strangling mixture of terror, hatred and self-loathing. Now… he felt nothing but peace.

This image of Bill wouldn’t – and couldn’t – harm him. Everything about the being he’d admired and trusted, to whom he’d devoted his entire life and self… That Bill was now here, as though resurrected from his suppressed memories.

Slowly, he got up from his resting position and approached his sole companion.

“Bill?” he called out cautiously. Bill didn’t turn around; he must’ve been busy with something. Ford floated closer.

“Heya there, Six!” He finally got his response, and its familiar tone all but lit up his eyes. “Seems to me your need for a snooze was reaching emergency levels right about when you walked in! Looking like a whole new fleshbag there, good for you!”

Ford blinked in confusion at the strange sight he was met with: Bill was holding a fishing rod, and its line sunk into the bottomless blue beneath them. Was Bill… fishing?

Where did this strange image come from? He’d never witnessed Bill do or even discuss anything even distantly related to fishing or other seaside activities. For some reason, Ford found himself with a half-forgotten memory of his twin brother sitting vacantly on the bow of their little boat with a fishing rod in his hands, dragging the sinker around in an attempt to scribble bad words across the sand. There was no hook, of course – their pet project never made it past the shore. It had all been just play-pretend.

Ford took a seat in the empty air beside Bill.

“Why are you here?” he asked quietly.

Bill gave him a rather inexpressive side glance. “Hm?”

“I learned your true motives. I know everything you…” he gestured vaguely at Bill and looked away. “…this image of you represents is a lie. Why won’t you fade from my head? Why do I still remember you the way you were before I discovered your true nature?”

The corner of Bill’s eye twitched in amusement. “Ha! You expect me to answer that after calling me fake to my eye?”

Ford allowed himself to smile back in response to the demon’s admittedly incisive remark. “I don’t expect you to know the answer. You are nothing but a fabrication of my own mind, after all.”

“You sure know how to stroke a guy’s ego, Fordsy!”

This time, Ford laughed out loud. He couldn’t help but feel this was an astoundingly good imitation of Bill’s usual style of banter… back when he’d still known him, or thought he did. Of course, it was only natural that the way he imagined Bill would match his true self as closely as possible.

And yet – why was his mind maintaining this separate version of Bill, one before and one after his betrayal? Why wouldn’t one overpower the other, and why did both seem equally true to him? Why was it that he only appeared to be able to communicate with the one who was built on lies and treachery, and not the one who revealed his true form and had haunted his dreams ever since?

He simply couldn’t understand.

“Could it be because of the metal plate?” he then wondered, mainly to himself. “Perhaps it enclosed an image of you in my head, and it can no longer be altered.”

From the corner of his eye, he could catch the sight of Bill rolling his. “That dumb internal foil hat didn’t decorate your skull until weeks after you found out about my little two-year pitch job. Plenty of time for you to burn the photos and change your locks, wasn’t there? But it seems to me you just walled yourself in, and now you’re chatting up your photo album. Some may call it madness, I call it adorable!”

Ford grimaced. Apparently this level of reproach was something he, deep down, thought he deserved. Or, perhaps… he wanted to hear it from Bill himself.

They floated in silence for a long while. Every now and then, the fishing rod Bill was holding seemed to twitch slightly, as though something was nibbling at whatever was on the other end of the line. Bill kept his eye on the rod, but showed no intention to reel it in. Something about this strange performance bothered Ford to no end.

“So!” the demon exclaimed all of a sudden just as Ford opened his mouth to say something. “We haven’t exactly been keeping in touch, save for your one-sided pining for me – aw, come on, buddy, it’s a shame-free zone here! – so let’s catch up like old friends do! Tell me, how’s exile been treating you so far?”

“It’s not an exile, Bill”, Ford retorted, wondering why he had to correct a being that was essentially a projection of his own thoughts. “I am on my quest on my own accord.”

“Oh, so you tripped and fell into the portal on purpose?”

“I did not trip – I was shoved through by my…” He fell quiet. “You know as well as I do that it was you who drove me into this. In any case, I was not banished from my dimension, and I am no longer simply on the run. I have a mission.”

“Say, IQ”, Bill hummed slowly, “when you were hustling and bustling with the portal, did you even once stop and think about the consequences of your actions?”

Ford frowned. He’d thought he would be the only one asking questions, and wasn’t at all prepared to be questioned himself in any other than rhetorical ways. “I… Of course I did. I spent countless nights and days dreaming of –“

“- what was in it for you, right? Fame, glory and recognition, all that jazz the government has conditioned you to live and die for.”

“That isn’t all there was to it”, Ford retorted. “I had other goals, higher ideals… I wanted to advance humanity’s understanding on all things weird and anomalous.”

“Well, who’s to say you wouldn’t have achieved that exact goal by _letting me take over your dimension?_ ”

Ford gave a start at Bill’s sharp tone of voice. Were they… arguing? Had the Illuminator misread his hopes and wishes? He couldn’t possibly hope for something like this. This was not the Bill he was prepared to fight.

“You lied”, he said curtly. “You took me for a fool. Had you ever really cared about my goals, you would have told me the truth about yours.”

Bill cocked his brow. “And you and your oh-so-high morals and common sense would’ve just rolled with it?”

“Perhaps not. With how things turned out between us in the end, I suppose we’ll never know.”

“Hm…” Bill hummed thoughtfully and gave him a meaningful look. “But you’re saying there was a chance.”

“No, I…” Ford huffed. “Look, Bill, all I am saying is you were dishonest. I couldn’t… You cannot expect me to understand your ambitions for what they were when you refuse to see eye to eye with me from the get-go.”

“So we’re good to knock the earlier _‘other goals, higher ideals’_ baloney off the table?” Bill noted with a smirk. “Humanity, wisdom, science, la-di-da. We’re not here for that, are we? This is about you and me.”

Ford remained quiet for a moment, searching for a hidden meaning in the demon’s words. He had to admit Bill was right; his academic goals, his moral high ground, all of it had been irrelevant in the endgame. It all burned down to Bill and himself.

Him – both of them – being here was proof of it.

“Yes”, he said at last. “You and me.”

“Excellent!” Bill whooped and threw his fishing rod into the deep blue void without a warning. He circled Ford with his hands crossed behind his back, suddenly full of his usual energy. “I knew we’d reach an understanding on that minor detail. Now let’s get down to business, shall we? Surely you won’t say no to a nice cup of tea! We have a world to discuss, old friend.”

Ford accepted the teacup that was painted into existence as if with swift brush strokes in front of him with a hint of excitement in his smile. He now understood why they had been arguing just a moment ago, and the thought of it no longer unnerved him. In fact, he could hardly wait what answers and epiphanies they could still reach together in the well over two days he had left.

His mind felt lighter with every moment that passed in Bill’s presence.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“How’s the tea, Six?”

“Splendid. It is exactly as I remember it.” The taste of ethereal tea on his tongue soothed him perhaps even more than the dearly needed rest had done earlier.

“Good, good! Speaking of which, you know what’s missing from this taker-backer setup?”

Ford raised an eyebrow with a smile. “Do you mean interdimensional chess?”

“You know me too well, old friend!” Bill snapped his fingers, conjuring two sets of chess pieces floating between them.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but… don’t you think it’s a little unnecessary?”

“Hm? How so?”

“Well…” Ford scratched his temple. “I’m under the impression you chose chess for our first meeting because it serves for familiarizing yourself with the way your opponent thinks. Hence, it was an ideal way for us to get to know each other, but would it not be futile now? We – this version of you and I – are no longer strangers to one another.”

“Maybe _you_ didn’t know _me_ ”, Bill pointed out with a smirk, “but I knew all about you before we ever exchanged a word. I know everything, remember?”

“That might be true”, Ford admitted, “but your omniscience did not make you capable of predicting that particular game. Otherwise you could’ve defeated me without trouble, thus proving your superiority to me, which would’ve well served your purposes at the time. Instead, our game continued until dawn to the moment I awoke in the forest, never reaching its conclusion.”

“Fair enough”, said Bill. “But I think you just rendered your own point moot, pal! New game, new discoveries! Every move you made told me something new about you! Well, now’s a bit different, I give you that! Still and all – I’m the same old all-seeing eye I’ve always been, but I wouldn’t pass up the chance of learning if I were you!”

“Bill…” Ford cast his eyes down with a sigh. “I’m sure you understand that if we were to engage in a game now, I’d be the one playing both sides. You’re only a fragment of my imagination. I can talk to you like this with ease… However, a game of chess –“

“Oh, you don’t think I’m cut out for a game? Try me, smart guy.”

Ford glanced cautiously at the challenging look the demon was giving him. Of course, the Bill in his head would try to prove his independence from his will, if for no other reason than to mess with the man’s head.

Smoke and mirrors… Ford never disliked that side of Bill.

When he still didn’t know what to do, Bill let out a groan and reached to grasp a white pawn floating a few inches away from him. “Fine, jeez! Ball’s in my court, I get it. But you better catch it when I throw!”

“What? But –“

“I’m taking the initiative, see? Ha!” With an almost victorious force, Bill slammed the piece on the chessboard appeared between them as if by his command. “How’s that fit into your little _‘it’s all in my head’_ theory?”

“No, that isn’t…” Ford blinked, confused. “I… I thought the black pieces were the ones to move first in interdimensional chess. If I recall correctly, you let me make the first move in black during our first encounter.”

“Did I now?” Bill let out a brash laughter. “Well, who said interdimensional chess ever had any rules to begin with?”

“How can you play a game with no rules?” Ford asked, astonished.

“Easy!” The triangle crossed his arms in a knowing manner. “Just give a guy the freedom of interpretation and work it up from there. You thought it was similar to normal chess, right? But when I handed you the black pieces and let you go first, you immediately accepted that deviation from the rules you were used to and went with the flow. You could’ve asked me, you know! But you decided to go with your gut instead. Always liked that about you, Fordsy! You never questioned anything. Didn’t even cross your mind that it could’ve as well been a mishap on my part!”

Ford blinked. “Are you saying that you made up the rules on the fly, and conducted the game on a completely arbitrary basis?”

“Well, not exactly! There’s one rule that applies to every game, interdimensional or otherwise. Like tango, it takes two!”

“Bill, I think you’ve misinterpreted the expression”, Ford pointed out with a small smile. “Tango has strictly defined choreographic rules. It is the exact opposite of what you’re trying to say.”

“Could be, could be!” Bill nodded. “But hear me out first and judge me second! What I mean is you can’t play chess with a bunch of nightmare abominations, _or_ your plans to take over the physical realm! It takes a certain kind of focus, not just on what’s happening on the gameboard, but on a very specific someone making goo-goo eyes at you from the other side of the board! We’re talking partnership here, in case that flew over your busy little head!”

“That’s…” Ford fell quiet.

“So tell me, Stanford, what did we agree on again a little while ago?”

The man drew a deep breath. “This is between you and me”, he recited Bill’s earlier words.

Bill leaned into his chair with a smug flick of his wrist. “And it’s all crystal clear! Now, am I getting my game or not?”

“You speak of partnership”, Ford said, keeping his eyes on the teacup in his hands. “However…”

Bill frowned. “You’re really testing my patience here, pal.”

“Had we truly been partners… We would've been seated on the same side of the chessboard.”

"You sure about that?” Bill asked with a mocking frown. “Then what would've been on the other side? And what is the chessboard in that scenario, anyway? I already told ya, that's not how you play chess. Getting a little lost in the metaphor there, smart guy?”

Ford reached for one of the white pieces floating around him and stared at it deep in thought. Normally, you couldn’t make your first move with a rook… But as Bill had said, no rules commonly agreed upon seemed to apply to this game. He and Bill would define their own set of rules as the game proceeded.

Slowly, he placed the piece in square D-4, earning a pleased, intrigued look from Bill. “Perhaps we were destined to face one another”, he said quietly, “enemies or otherwise.”

Bill hummed in lazy disagreement. “Perhaps the ‘enemies’ part is your own choosing, Fordsy.”

“You betrayed me. None of this will ever change that.”

“Obviously”, Bill shrugged. “I guess that's it for your quest for closure, then!”

Something moved in Ford’s chest at Bill’s off-handed mockery. He wanted to retort; but now Bill was completely immersed in their game, eyeing the chessboard with a thoughtful frown, and his vague opposition withered in his throat. Everything they had discussed rang twice as meaningful in his ears. What on Earth was he doing? Why was he so desperate to control the course of their interactions? He would be none the wiser conducting this same argument in his own head, like he’d done countless times before reaching this place. He already knew it was futile.

Why would he need an external force to fabricate an imitation of Bill if he wasn’t ready to heed any insight that was different from his own? That would serve no purpose other than that of self-assurance, which he had no need for. It wasn’t why he was here.

In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt the game, and eventually gave in to the intrigue that was just as contagious as it had been during their first meeting. Bill seemed to catch on to a certain pattern Ford was prone to using in his moves rather quickly, whereas Ford never quite understood the logic between Bill’s seemingly haphazard strikes. Nevertheless, the triangle always seemed to have the upper hand. Ford didn’t mind.

There was no announcement of a winner to this game. There were no concluding moves, no grand finale. Each king piece – of which there were five – disappeared into parallel dimensions whenever they saw fit and returned shortly afterwards with a whole new army of pieces, scrambling the board’s layout completely and starting the game all over again. That’s how it was in interdimensional chess.

Ford could hardly remember the last time his intellect had been so thoroughly challenged, or when he’d last enjoyed himself this much.

It was a lie. He did remember.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ford had been the first human to have a metal plate of this particular kind installed in his head. The surgery had been toilsome in itself, and even after the operation, the risk of human biology rejecting the alien materials had been immense. Ford had been sent off with a wide variety of medicinal substances and a strict order to not miss his daily dose under any circumstances.

Three days after receiving these instructions, all of his traveling gear, the medication with it, had been stolen by a group of interdimensional bandits.

Ford had learned the severity of the risk involved in his operation in the harshest way imaginable.

In just a few hours, he’d found himself knocked on cold ground by an infection that, as far as he could tell, could have well been fatal. Hallucinations had run wild in his inflamed brain while he’d fought to keep on his legs for long enough to find help in the crime-ridden dimension he’d been stuck in, but to no avail.

Collapsed in some dark back alley, trapped and paralyzed in the grip of a feverish delirium, Ford’s burning eyes had seen Bill. But instead of derision, cruelty and scorn – anything he could've possibly expected from him – the swaying form of his enemy had offered him words of encouragement. Well, in his own cutting way, of course.

_What's the matter, smart guy? That big brain of yours can't take the heat? Come on, pal, you gonna let a little fever get the best of you before our final face-off? Nah, I happen to know here's still plenty of fight left in you! Just keep those eyes open, see? That's my Sixer! You know what? I'll keep you company, for old times' sake. We're all mad in near-death experience town, after all!_

Keeping his eyes focused on the unreal gleam of gold instead of letting them slip shut for what could’ve been forever, Ford had wrapped his faltering consciousness in the warmth of comfort, however false, the echo of Bill’s voice had given him.

His phantom companion had stayed with him until the worst had passed, and the dawn of a new day had given him the strength he needed to seek help for his condition.

The price had been high, but eventually he’d found a way to survive.

The memory of Bill hadn’t left him since.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“This is pointless.”

Ford was pacing around in the air, frustration building up in his heavy huffs of breath.

“Pointless, you say?” Bill commented from above his head. “Well, go figure! And why is that?”

“I did not come here to play chess and engage in a pleasant discussion! I was led astray. You were right – I am here for closure, and nothing more. I don’t need to resolve my conflicts with you…” He ran a hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. ”I only need to make you disappear.”

“You sure we’re not looking at a cause and effect situation here?”

“ _No!”_ the man lashed out, earning a skeptically raised brow for an answer. “I already told you this is pointless – or better yet, counterproductive! The more I interact with you, the more I…” Ford hissed quietly as if in pain. “The more real you appear to me. Yet I know you are not, and this is _pointless_.”

“Okay, smart guy, hold it right there.” Ford startled at the feeling of a hand pressed against his forehead, stopping him from pacing any further. “Wanna talk pointless? You know what else is pointless? _Everything!_ You think your silly mortal struggle would stop the eventual collapsing of time and space? You think any of this _matters_ in the long run? Face the music! Nothing says inevitable eradication of all existence like a fight that’s way out of your league!”

“I don’t care for your nihilistic approach –“ Ford started in a rather angered tone, but another sharp poke at his forehead cut him off.

“Nihilistic? Hah! Back where I come from, it’s called _keeping it real!_ Do you have any idea how much mockery my plan to collaborate with a measly human received from the elder nightmares? And anyway, do you even _know_ how little credit your seven-eyed gal pal gives your kind, huh? Oh, she’ll keep an eye or a dozen on you all right, but does she ever bother to chat you up unless some good-looking geometry of a much more sociable kind happens to grind her gears enough to force her meddling hand? Fat chance!”

Ford remained silent. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, that was the impression he’d gotten as well. Most beings of wisdom did not seem to care about the quirks of lesser beings, let alone those of belligerent, short-lived humans.

Fate, balance, a greater good. Those were the commitments of the wise ones. And Ford was fighting to protect those same values in himself… wasn’t he?

“Why do you loathe your own kind so much?” Ford muttered, gazing into the deep blue. He didn’t have the heart to face Bill just yet. “Are you not one of the all-knowing?”

“Oho, you’re asking the big questions here!” Bill smirked, leaning leisurely on his cane. “Come on, Ford. You know the answer yourself. Isn’t that why _you_ wanted to change the world? Do you really think there was ever any balance for you to protect in the first place?”

“Bill, no one is saying the world is perfect as is –“

“– and still every time _anyone_ has the nerve to open the window and let a nice fresh breeze of change into the room, suddenly it’s the end of the world and a moralist free-for-all!”

“That isn’t why we must stop you”, Ford retorted sharply. “We simply need to negate any collateral damage your dangerous plans could result in.”

“Change equals damage”, said Bill matter-of-factly. “You just want to ensure you won’t be on the suffering end, don’t you?”

An image of an old swing set flashed across the canvas of Ford’s mind. “That isn’t…”

“Oh, it’s true all right, trust me! Seems like we both have plenty of ulterior motives to get by. And yet here we are, chatting away like there’s no tomorrow. Talk about counterproductive!”

Ford cursed under his breath. In his curious willingness to give Bill some leeway, he’d lost any and all control over their debate. Every time he felt like he was verging on a new realization, Bill would sidetrack his course of thought completely.

“Bill…” he tried after a moment of mutually unhappy silence. “What were you planning to do had you managed to take over the physical realm?”

Bill gave him a melodramatic shrug. “Haha, well, who knows! Guess it was always a ‘break free of your limitations and see where it goes from there’ kind of a deal, like what you’re doing in this fish tank – or your whole life for that matter! _Ad astra per aspera_ , my friend! Earthbound normality was never enough for you, either! Did you ever think what would happen when you’d eventually reach those stars? Never even crossed your mind, but that sure didn’t slow you down!”

“I was never a visionary”, Ford muttered, his voice quiet. “It did not matter what would await at the end of the road. I just wanted to make the journey. Isn’t that quite natural?”

Bill looked pleased. “So you’re finally getting the big idea! See, that’s mortality for you, Sixfingers! To hell with the endgame! You guys just want to make the most of it while it lasts. Can you really blame me for having an eye for that? _Do you know_ what it’s like to be expected to advocate nothing but balance and a ‘greater good’, whatever that even is – because _nobody knows_ , I kid you not – for the rest of your immortality, without sparing a single thought for what _you_ wanna do with your own damn life?”

Ford frowned in hesitation. “Then… Are you saying my intellectual ambitions that have determined the course of my entire life were never real? That all my aspirations for understanding the unknown have been for nothing?”

Bill laughed. “Nah, your ambitions are fine and dandy! All I’m saying is everything that _really_ rocked your world came your way right out of the blue, unplanned and unforeseen! Now tell me, Fordsy, what are you here for again?”

“To erase you from my mind.”

“How’s that looking so far?”

Ford shook his head slowly. “I’m drifting further and further away from that goal with every word you speak.”

“Yep, this certainly hasn’t been your finest hour in the vindication department”, Bill confirmed in a nonchalant tone. “You keep saying I’m not real, and yet you constantly ask for and eagerly listen to my every opinion. I’m getting a funny feeling this was always more of a hearing than a trial.” The space around them was slowly starting to morph into something resembling a courtroom. “So, what say you? Will good old Bill Cipher be incriminated or pardoned by our honorable jurors Stanford Pines and his little mind-absorbing excuse of an imaginary friend?”

For a fleeting moment, a bitter smile twisted Ford’s expression. “Do not think for a second that I could ever forgive you, Bill.”

Bill tapped his front thoughtfully with his index finger. “Hm… In fact, let me rephrase the metaphor a bit. What if _you’re_ the defendant, Fordsy?”

“What do you mean?” Ford asked with a frown.

“Oh, I don’t know. Seems to me like you’ve been trying very hard to deny something here.”

Finally, Ford turned to face Bill. “And… what might that be?” he asked in a tone of voice that was tame compared to the emotions that were taking over his mind.

Bill fixed his bowtie in a self-important manner. “Well, your honor –“

“I’m both the judge and the defendant? You’re making a mess of your own metaphor.”

“– I think the matter of dispute here, quite simply, is that _you_ refuse to admit you were wrong about me.”

“What? That’s completely irrelevant”, Ford countered, growing angry. “The nature of your deeds cannot be shrugged off by questioning my judgment.”

“A-nd _objection!_ ” Bill hollered almost victoriously. “It’s every bit as relevant as anything could ever be! This is all in your head, Stanford Pines, you said it yourself! We’re in your mind! These are your hopes and dreams we’re talking about! _I’m_ your hopes and dreams!”

“That’s just it!” Ford shouted back at the demon. “You’re not him! You’re nothing but an illusion, an afterimage of the foolish admiration I felt for him!”

“Then why would I know about my own betrayal?” Bill stormed on. “Isn’t this ‘false image’ supposed to be blissfully ignorant of my treachery? Where’s the contradiction you were supposed to erase me with? Was there ever one? Because you aren’t gonna find your way around it in _this_ courtroom, that’s for sure!”

“I –“

“And hey, why did you ask me what my plans for your dimension were? You just told me I’m not even the one trying to invade it, so how should I know? Going by that logic, you’d think I came along just to give you a hand with your little weirdness theory, and yet you already know that was a scam from start to finish! Why do you keep vexing me for a different answer, and then refuse to accept any other than the one you already have while finding even that one no good? Because it seems to me the one playing games here is _you!_ ”

“Bill –“

“You don’t even want my opinion, do you? You just want me to say whatever you want me to say!”

“That isn’t true!”

“Oh, it’s true! But wait, there’s more!” Bill pointed a finger at him. “Riddle me this, Brainiac: you don’t want to want what you want!”

“That –“ Ford stammered cluelessly. “That makes no sense –“

Bill laughed. “Truth never does, buddy! It’s all one internal conflict after another with you people! I’d say you’re in one hell of a crossroads situation here! Either you continue this charade of yours where you project your own uncertainties onto me and instantly throw yourself for a loop because you _know_ it’s not me you’re talking to, or you own up to your incompetence to the whole crowd of you, yourself and I! _Well?_ How do you plead, Stanford Pines?”

“Not guilty.”

“Hm?”

Ford’s stance was firm, but his fists were shaking. “I did not come here to be humbled by you”, he said as he looked up to Bill, who squinted incredulously in return. “And I will not compromise my dignity under the guise of a surrender by default of law. There are no rules to our game, so this mockery of justice can make no definite ruling, either.”

“Interesting”, the demon smirked and spread his arms. “Good members of the jury, we thank you for your time! This case is closed without verdict!” He snapped his fingers, and the luminescent illusion of a courtroom collapsed around them.

“That was fun! So what’s your next move?” he asked as he turned back to Ford. “Where to go from here? Closure is off the table, moral absolution is a no-go, and looks like justice doesn’t do it for you, either! What’s your next challenge in this little match of wits?”

Ford took a step back. “I… I need some time to think.”

“Oh, I see what’s going on here”, Bill sneered, wagging his finger knowingly at the man’s disconcerted face. “You can’t risk walking away from me with unfinished business, can you? Because if you did, this little trip to your brain would amount to nothing. Well, be sure to take your time, pal! I’ll be in my –“

“Don’t…“ Ford took a hasty step forward, stumbling a little in the lack of solid ground beneath his boots. “…turn away from me.”

Bill stopped still; the look in his eye was quizzical, yet sharp.

“Keep watching me”, Ford said weakly. “We must always oppose one another. I need you as my witness. Please, stay.”

“Seems to me you’ve run out of arguments”, Bill pointed out.

“I will find a way”, Ford muttered hoarsely. “And I need you to be here… I need a reminder.”

Bill floated closer. His fingertips reached to graze Ford’s curls in an almost warning gesture.

"Tick-tock, Fordsy”, he said. “Your time is running out.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Bill that appeared in Ford’s nightmares every time he slipped into reluctant sleep refused to show himself; he would always be nothing more than a looming presence, a faceless cluster of terrors and ghosts from his subconscious. No matter how many times Ford called out for him, he would never face him in person. But there he was nevertheless, driving the man to the point where he had no choice but to awaken to a new day of struggle without the rest he so dearly needed.

Bill wasn’t only depriving him of sleep. He was depriving him of himself, and Ford couldn’t bear it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Perhaps you're right. I have no arguments left.” It must’ve been hours from their last exchange until the moment he spoke out again, breaking the silence around them. “My reasonings and justifications are meaningless. And yet, all that matters is I want you out of my head. That is an indisputable fact."

"Of course! Ashes to ashes, facts to facts… malarkey to malarkey."

For once, Ford paid no mind to Bill’s words. "You are an embodiment of my hopes and wishes. Do you refuse to leave my mind?"

"Not going anywhere, kid", said Bill softly, cheerily.

"Then..." Ford drew breath. "I must kill you."

He shivered from the cold feeling his words left in his mouth. He’d reached a dead end.

Bill raised his eyebrow in a barely distinguishable gesture. It was less mockery than a simple notion of the grim statement it followed. “Is that why you came here, Stanford? To kill me?”

Ford didn’t answer; he didn’t know. He came here to seek answers, but...

"I will ask you once more”, he said wearily. “Why are you here?"

Bill moved an inch closer to him. "Why are _you_ here?" he repeated after him; but it didn’t sound like parroting jeer.

Perhaps it was foolish to expect a straight answer from Bill. Playing along would probably be just as futile. He tried either way. "I am here… to ask you that very question..."

"Which I just now proceeded to answer, smart guy!”

Ford didn’t understand. "No, _I'm_ asking you -"

"You're asking yourself! You think I can't see right through that stupid metal plate? I already told you, I know _everything!_ ”

“No, you don’t.” The man shook his head. “You're not him. You’re not Bill Cipher.”

"Oh, really? Then who is?"

Ford avoided Bill’s piercing gaze, and instead stared at the outlines of his own reflection on the demon’s gleaming surface.

"Do you mean the guy who single-mindedly and exclusively betrayed you? With everything else counted out?"

"...No, that's..."

"He's Bill Cipher, right?"

"Well, yes, but –"

Their eyes met again.

"Why are you here?" Bill asked, this time with a softer tone of voice.

Ford could no longer turn away from him.

"I wanted to see you again."

His legs seemed to give in under the weight of his words. He collapsed on his knees, eagerly leaning his forehead against Bill’s front as the demon closed in on him.

And at that, it all made perfect sense.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It is said there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

All of them were a lie. There was ever only one stage, and it would never fade or change its form.

Grief was a reminder. Grief was a glaring image of yourself you couldn't shield your eyes from. Grief was hearing the same words over and over again, each time from a different mouth. Grief was walking in circles without ever reaching completion. Grief was acceptance, but only in the past.

There was only one way to grieve. Either you did... or you didn't. Either you fought it with everything you had...

...or you let it in, and let go.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, well, well.” When Bill spoke out after what could’ve been hours, his voice was still as soft as before. “And here I thought you didn’t have the guts to face me unless it was through the barrel of a big gun.”

“I am not afraid of you”, Ford stammered, his voice not louder than a whisper. “I fear your power over me. It keeps me awake, and it keeps me running… but you? _You_ … I can’t bring myself to be afraid of you…”

He could feel Bill humming against his forehead. “Not the worst distinction you’ve made in your life, I gotta say. So what am I to you, exactly?”

“You…” Ford let out a choked laughter. “You are everything I ever wanted. The memory of you is what keeps me alive. It clears my head. I try to put my trust in my own intellect, but you... You always seem to get in my way.”

“And what are you to me?”

“I don’t know”, Ford muttered. “How could I ever know? You are high above me, far beyond my reach, and yet… it did not matter to me. I never cared about your dangerous plans nor proving my own worth. All I ever wanted was to work with you as equals. No… It did not even have to be equal, so long as you were my partner.”

Black arms found their way around his shoulders. It was a gentle gesture Ford could never have expected, or even be bold enough to wish for. Strangely enough, it didn’t startle him; instead, it gave a form to the words on the tip of his tongue, urging a confession that was no longer painful.

“I only wanted to be with you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

What was darkness... but the absence of light?

 

 

* * *

 

 

"You know what this means, don’t you? This illusion of me won't break unless you break the real me out there. Think you can do that, Fordsy? Kill me for good?"

“ _Never_.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Eventually, the heavy hands and iron grips came to drag him away by force. The arms that had been embracing him throughout his last day didn’t try to keep him in.

The Illuminator was benevolent, after all.

His eyelids were just as heavy as when he’d first arrived, but this time, it wasn’t from fatigue. He couldn’t face the official looking down on him in sheer disgust.

“Scum”, it spat out. “Lying scum and a disgrace. That’s what you are, Dines, if that’s even your real name.”

Ford didn’t answer. His body had no strength left to fight the two enormous guards that threw him against cold stone and left him to collapse from the hit, all but unresponsive.

“Does she know?” he managed to mutter.

“Oh, she will. Just what do you take the oracle for? Now leave, before I contact her myself.”

“What?”

“Take your gear and scram”, the creature hissed. “We’ve got no use for it, and I’m not taking the responsibility of punishing you. You’ll get what’s coming for you, Dines. Mark my words.” It turned on its heels and marched off, gesturing the guards to follow in tow. “Last human I’ll ever let past the gates, I swear…”

Ford was left alone, the distant clanking noise from the mills beneath as his only company. He thought of going back, fighting his way back in by force. He thought of staying where he lay.

_…No._

His feeble hand reached to grab his interdimensional transporter with an amount of tenacity he didn’t think he could muster.

_You will not define me._

Grief and hatred clenched his teeth, strained every muscle in his face; but as he slowly stood up on his feet, his stance was firm.

_My weakness will not define me._

His mind was clear.

_The thought of you may be my guiding light. It helps me see, but it does not determine my path._

He squeezed the gadget in his hand and typed in his coordinates, prepared to step into his next destination.

_Even if you tell me to surrender, I choose to fight._

The sun rising behind his back painted his shadow long, reaching forth from where he stood.

_I will fight…_

He gazed at the illuminated world before him.

_…with you as my witness._


End file.
